


I will never leave you

by Thelandthatfoughtforliberty (Maaike)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Future, Fluff and Angst, Immortal!Les Amis, M/M, Mortal!Enjolras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maaike/pseuds/Thelandthatfoughtforliberty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Les Amis l'ABC is a group of immortal men who are wandering around in France for decades, being a part of most of the rebellions and revolutions.<br/>It is the year 2020 and Les Amis return to France, where they meet a charming young boy, named Enjolras.<br/>Particularly Grantaire seems interested in the boy, but can they survive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How it all began

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god.... My first attempt to post a fanfic online. This even is my first proper fanfic.  
> Please don't hate it!  
> Hopefully someone will enjoy it.
> 
> xxxxx

Chapter one  
It was 128 A.D., around noon, when a young man stumbled around in his home village. His eyes were slowly closing, but the boy kept going. Blood was dripping from a deep wound in his womb, it was painfully obvious the man was dying. Only by a miracle the boy would have been able to stand, but he keeps walking, destination unknown to passer-bys. 

After the young man set foot in the nearby forest, his resistance and strength were faltering. His steps became slurry, he dragged his feet forward, but he stopped regularly. He couldn’t hold it any longer. His knees were trembling and the boy had to give up. He dropped down on the soft ground, what was covered in leaves, and he closed his eyes. 

He was just so tired. It didn’t go as planned, nothing went as planned. His dream, shattered to pieces. He was just a nobody, what on earth was he thinking, trying to change his faith? So now he had to die here, all alone. A blinding light flashed before his eyes and then… nothing.  
Was this death? This nothingness? Would he forever wander around in the dark, with nothing but his own thoughts?

‘’ Oi, boy.’’ Wait, he wasn’t alone? Suddenly, the young man began to feel his body again, his arm over his womb, his back pressed into the soft ground and a leave tickled his cheek. Is this some new stage of death?

‘’ Boy! Can you hear me?’’ The voice was persistent and the young man felt a pressure on his shoulder. Slowly, he gathered his voice.  
‘’ Yeah,’’ he whispered, his throat sore, like it was from all the yelling he did at the attack. Would he be able to see, actually? Only when the boy opened one eye, he knew the answer.  
He was still in the forest, on the exact same spot as he died. Did he die? Of course he did, he was so badly wounded, no one would have survived.

But the young man did. 

He not only survived, he wasn’t able to die anymore. And he tried many times. He was so alone, so depressed. All hope was lost for the man, who was forever stuck at the age of 24. 

 

It took him decades to make peace with his new situation. He was immortal, frozen in his body for all eternity. After that, things actually were getting a lot worse. He wandered across France, north to south, east to west and starting over again. The first time was fifty years after his gained immortality, he was in the south of France, near the Spain border. The people were sick of the way they were treated and rose up. The young man was in the middle of it and saw every man slaughtered.

 

That was his new life from that day on. Everywhere he went, people rose at some point. And every time the immortal man saw them all slaughtered, while he remained untouched. He was alone, always alone. Until Paris, 1379. Still, men were slaughtered, like every time. But one group of students didn’t even get a scratch. Not one of them. They just walked away, disappointment sketched upon their faces. 

A boy with silk hair and glasses was the first to notice him. His brows furrowed, but then his eyes went wide and stared at the man, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable. 

‘’ You’re one of us,’’ the boy suddenly said and the group halted. 

‘’ What do you mean?’’ The immortal man was wary, suspicious. 

‘’ You can’t die, right?’’

‘’ How –‘’

‘’ It’s easy to see, actually. You are not hurt.’’ 

The immortal man kept quiet, but nodded.

‘’ Come on. What’s your name?’’ The boy had a friendly, open face and twinkling eyes.

‘’ Grantaire.’’ The immortal man had forgotten his name. Years ago even. He picked the name Grantaire from a young boy, barely ten, who was fighting with his father. He died in the arms of the immortal man, who took his name. It meant so much to him, the boy with the urge to protect his father.

 

From that day on, Grantaire was a part of les Amis de l’ABC, as they called themselves. The group immortals who all died during a fight, died while defending themselves and all the poor people against the government. Now they were anxious to help the lower class, giving them a chance.

 

Years went by, the biggest victory must have been the French Revolution, one that kept wandering in Grantaire’s thoughts. In 2020, les Amis de l’ABC was a group of 9 young men. 

Combeferre was the leader, the one with the curls and the oldest one of all. He had studied philosophy when he was younger and his eyes stare right into your soul. He even wears glasses, although it is just because he likes them, he doesn’t need them.

Next was Joly, the only immortal one who could still be afraid of getting sick. During the plague, he was horrible to be around and he sees deceases in everything, if it is a glass of water or someone coughing.

Bahorel was a muscle built man, physical the oldest, always in a fight. If he wasn’t immortal, he would be bruised and battered all over his body. The strange thing about him are his tattoos. No one knew if it would work, the needle, but it did, so now the man has many big tattoos all over his arms and back. Even though his appearance can scare people away, he loves les Amis with all of his heart.

Marius, a freckled boy, only eighteen when he died, but passionate. He is the youngest of the group, the only rich one when he was mortal and a bit spoiled in some ways. But he is like a puppy, adorable, but still has to learn the ways the world go.

Feuilly was the one who got into the revolutions, always deeply interested, no matter how many they had seen. He was also the one who convinced the others to be active in all of those revolutions and protests.

Grantaire was the next to join, his bitterness and cynicism made him the only one indifferent at most of the revolutions, because he didn’t believe in it anymore. He drank most of the time, the alcohol still doing his thing, although his liver isn’t affected by it anymore. 

Courfeyrac was the optimist, the joker and always laughing. He also was the one to bring many girls back to the hide-out to spend the night. Even some guys at one point. He could make everyone laugh after a bad day and he knew exactly what to say.

Lesleg (or Bossuet), always got shot, every time again. If he could die, he would have. He had the most misfortune a person could ever have. He just can’t figure out why he is that unlucky, but he just is. 

The last to join was Jehan, a romanticus, a poet and a dreamer. He wears brightly colored clothes and his hair always has some sort of ribbon or flowers in it. He appears weak and sensible, but to wear the kind of clothes he wears, you need an iron spine.

That was the group who turned up in Paris on the 14th of may, 2020.


	2. Hello Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive in Paris.  
> Really, that's just it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.  
> Since I am currently writing chapter 9 and because there are people READING THIS, I will post the next chapter.  
> This chapter isn't long, I know... There will be much longer chapters in the future, I promise!
> 
> Seriously, love all of you who read this!!  
> Enjoy.

Chapter 2:

The sun is shining. The first time in months, the air is warm and Jehan had taken of his coat. His arms are spread and he is circling around, catching as much sun as he can.

‘’ Jehan, come on,’’ Courfeyrac sights, Jehans coat is on his arm and he is tapping with his foot, impatient.

‘’ Aww Courf. It is too beautiful today to be sulking.’’ Jehan picks a flower and puts it in his hair, a big smile on his face. 

‘’ Jehan, we actually have to hurry. Or otherwise we wouldn’t have a place to stay.’’ 

‘’ Fine, fine.’’ Jehan walks on, next to Courfeyrac, who is still keeping his coat. When Courfeyrac thinks no one is looking, he pulls the coat up and sniffs at is. A flowery smell lingers on the fabric, Jehans smell. 

‘’ Are we there yet?’’

‘’ ‘Taire, no complaining. Just keep walking, it is just a few more miles.’’ 

‘’ I need a drink.’’ 

‘’ You always need a drink,’’ Bahorel point out and Grantaire shrugs. It is true.

He always need a drink, otherwise he can’t handle everything that happens around him. Without being drunk, he sees all the deaths in front of his eyes. Every person he was starting to care about. So he had a easy solution, don’t care at all. He had locked his caring away and lost himself in the alcohol. There were even quite a lot of revolutions he missed because he was passed out. He missed most of the times Bossuet was shot, the times the revolutions failed and even some of the protests that succeeded. 

‘’ ‘Ferre, why don’t you just run ahead? So when we come, we wouldn’t have to wait.’’ Courfeyracs voice is sickly sweet and he batters his eyelashes to Combeferre.

‘’ No,’’ the man states. ‘’ You are all going.’’ 

‘’ Awwh please?’’ 

‘’ Those puppy eyes haven’t worked for almost 400 years, Courf, so why would they work now?’’

‘’ Maybe… Because you finally realized how much I’m suffering here from walking?’’

But Combeferre ignores Courfeyrac and just keeps on walking, they are actually almost there. The streets around them show the outskirts of Paris, where the streets are empty with the exclusion of some gang members, who are lurking on the street corners and playgrounds.

They can feel the eyes burning, following them until they are out of sight. It sure is not hard to realize something is about to happen, they can feel it in the air. And so can the people, the residents of France. They are restless, anxious and suspicious of everything. Those are the usual signs something is happening. After centuries of watching and participating revolutions, rebellions and protests, les Amis know when it will happen. So they keep moving on, walking into town and trying to discover what exactly is going on in Paris.

The news wasn’t cooperating this time, there is propaganda and the media isn’t allowed to print anything about the turmoil in the capital of one of the most influencing lands in Europe. 

So it is being said it is really bad this time around. No foreign countries can know a thing that is happening, even all the social networks won’t go any further than France itself. The government controls it all. 

So it has to be somewhere, the people will rise. And where else would that be than Paris? Where the government is seated and the tyranny is the hardest of all of France.

Once President Javert was chosen, everything went downhill. The people loved him at first, his attitude, his love for the law, his speeches that he will get the scum off the street. What no one could foresee, is that Javert saw every citizen as scum. At least, every citizen who ever broke the law. 

All the teenagers who downloaded music and movies from the internet, children who stole some candy, adults who had their rebel years, the true criminals, everybody feared for their lives. Most tried to run when the announcement was given, not many succeeded. 

Internet history was searched through, looking for illegal activities, security cameras were watched constantly, looking for misbehavior. Everyone got scared, the people who ran, never returned. No one heard a thing about them anymore. 

Les Amis have the luck no one of them owned a computer of the sorts and they just have a mobile phone for the show, to keep up appearance. Not that they use them much. They can’t be traced back more than a month, thanks to Feuilly, who is amazing with technology. 

So now, les Amis are anonymous in Paris, Combeferre found a house for the lot of them by some sort of friend he made. They are just here to help the people from the background, to watch most of it. 

But who would have thought it would turn out to be one of the biggest rebellions in history, with les Amis as a big part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, still no Enjy...  
> Next chapter!


	3. Let's meet Enjolras (and something about a bathroom...)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like the title says,
> 
> Let's meet Enjolras
> 
> (and Joly freaks out about a bathroom)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOVE EVERYONE WHO TAKES THE TIME TO READ THIS!  
> REALLY, IT WILL GET SOOO MUCH BETTER THAN THE START, I PROMISE!

It turned out that Combeferre managed to get les Amis a huge basement in the centre of Paris, right where all the action takes place. The place has four bedrooms, one bathroom and two living rooms. Jehan immediately claimed one living room to be his inspiration room, where he could write poems, so it was up to Courfeyrac to make the sleeping arrangements. 

‘’ So… ‘Taire, you take that room with Bahorel.’’ Courfeyrac points to the room directly left from the stairs. The two guys obediently put their stuff on two of the empty beds, ignoring the third bed positioned there. ‘’ Marius, you go in that one with ‘Ferre. And the biggest room is for Joly, Bossuet en Feuilly.’’ That only means that Jehan and Courfeyrac must share the last room, the small one in the corner.

‘’ Oh god. Will you two keep it quiet in the night?’’ Bahorel grunts and Jehan looks up, his face bright red.

Courfeyrac dismisses the matter within seconds. ‘’ Of course not! Everyone must hear us, right Jehan?’’ The poor poet wouldn’t meet Courfeyracs eyes, but he does knock over a empty bucket.

‘’ Courf! Knock it off! Jehan, you can switch, if you don’t want to be with this ass.’’ Grantaire smiles reassuring to Jehan, whom has a special place in the heart of the cynic. It is something about his fragility and his sweetness, no one can resist it. 

‘’ No, it’s fine,’’ Jehan stammers, his eyes finding Courfeyracs, who is grinning manically. 

Grantaire just shrugs. ‘’ It’s your wish,’’ is all he says and he dumps his clothes on the empty bed, what can easily used as a spare bench. His sketchbooks are placed next to Jehans poetry, where they will most likely stay until he has to pack them again. 

Grantaire hasn’t painted for decades. He just couldn’t do it anymore, his creativity is all gone. Jehan is so hopeful that Grantaire will pick it up again, but the drunkard knows it isn’t likely going to happen anytime soon.

‘’ OH MY GOD!’’ A hysteric shriek startles everyone while Joly is standing in the bathroom, white as a sheet. 

‘’ What is it? Pubes in the bath?’’ Bossuet sounds sincerely interested, although that can come because he is actually close to Joly and used to this hypochondriac.

‘’ I wish it was,’’ Joly murmurs and all of a sudden, Grantaire is interested. 

‘’ What is it? What can be worse than some stranger’s pubes in the bath?’’ A wicked grin is shown on his face while he walks towards Joly, who shudders by the thought.

Then the dark-haired boy looks in the bathroom and his eyebrows shoot up. ‘’ Okay… This is bad,’’ he admits and takes a careful step back. It is obvious the bathroom hasn’t been cleaned in ages. The walls are covered in mold and a suffocating smell rises from the bath. 

Joly is actually shacking next to Grantaire and leans into the arm Grantaire puts around him sympathetically. 

‘’ Great… That means no bathroom…’’ Feuilly closes the door before the smell becomes too hard to bear and looks over to the others. ‘’ Unless someone wants to clean it?’’ His suggestive tone is mostly pointed to Grantaire and Courfeyrac, who are the most likely to accept. The two glance at each other and shrug. 

‘’ Fine. But that means that we will have veto on the bathroom. We can use it whenever we want or need.’’ Ones the others agree, Grantaire let go of Joly and grabs the wallet from a small table. 

‘’ Let’s go get some cleaning stuff, right?’’ Courfeyrac knows immediately that Grantaire isn’t talking about cleaning solution and agrees without a second thought. They walk up the stairs and are happy to breath the clean air again.

‘’ Did you have a pub in mind?’’ Courfeyrac asks slyly.

‘’ Did you think I hadn’t?’’ Grantaire is already walking in a certain direction and stops before a small café, an old appearance, but cozy. Le Musain says the sign above the door and Grantaire is quickly inside, Courfeyrac just a heartbeat behind. 

Inside the atmosphere is totally not what was expected. The two men in the door opening are shocked and look at the scene playing before them. A young man stands on the table in the corner, his blond curls waving around his face and a fierce expression in his eyes. His whole body language is passionate, angry and determent. Around him, students are looking up at him, listening to him speaking. 

‘’ – but why do we have to let them take our families, our friends? Do we have to stand back? NO! The time is near! All too soon it is our turn to strike back, to take our revenge and to make the earth free for all of us!’’ 

The crowd is cheering and Courfeyrac looks at Grantaire, but words die on his lips. The cynic is really interested in the blond boy on the table. His eyes follow every move the speaker makes and his mouth is slightly open. Courfeyrac doesn’t make a sound, but in the back of his mind, he saves it for questioning later. 

‘’ Strangers!’’ shouts a person suddenly and in a matter of seconds, the blond boy is gone and Grantaire and Courfeyrac are surrounded by the crowd.

‘’ Wow wow. Calm down. We come in peace.’’ 

‘’ Couf, we’re no aliens.’’ 

‘’ I’ve always wanted to say that, so let me. But we are no bad guys, really. We just came into Paris and were eager for some beer.’’ The crowd slowly departs, but a young, brown-haired girl steps forward. 

‘’ How can we know for sure?’’

‘’ You can’t. It’s a matter of trust.’’ The voice is recognized and Combeferre steps around Grantaire and Courfeyrac, who are looking gob smacked. ‘’ Come on you two. As if you were shopping for cleaning solution. The rest is coming soon.’’ Combeferre now directs his attention to the girl in front of him. ‘’ I’m Combeferre.’’ 

It seems as the girl recognizes the name. ‘’ You’re the guy who rented the basement with the awful bathroom? With your friends?’’ 

‘’ Wait, if you know about that bathroom, why did no one say a thing?’’ Courfeyrac now has his eyes squinted and glares at the girl, who shrugs.

‘’ I had to rent it.’’ 

‘’ You? But I spoke to –‘’

‘’ Yeah, I know. You spoke to Montparnasse. He helps me, because I can’t handle everything. So, how did you find this place? It is quite a coincidence.’’ 

‘’ Just seemed like a nice place,’’ says Grantaire, who just came over the shock what was the blond boy, who is still gone. He looked like a god, like Apollo. Grantaire knows much about the Greek mythology and Apollo seems to have appeared on earth. He was so mesmerized by the boy, how his muscles moved underneath his tight red shirt, how his face wrinkles when he was concentrated and the look in his eyes made Grantaires knees go weak.

‘’ Oh. Well. Come and have a drink then.’’ The girl walks back towards the bar and pushes a young boy away. ‘’ Gavroche, you have no right to be behind the bar,’’ they can hear her hiss. ‘’ Go upstairs. Tell Enjy that the coast is clear.’’ 

The boy seems to protest for a few seconds, but then runs upstairs.

‘’ Soooo. Who’s Enjy? Your boyfriend?’’ Courfeyrac leans on the bar and batters his eyelashes to the girl.

‘’ Do you want your booze or what? And no. Enjolras is the guy who was making my table dirty with his shoes.’’ Ten bottles of beer are lined up on the bar and everyone takes one.

‘’ Is this one just opened? Because –‘’

‘’ Just drink it, Jollly.’’ Grantaire takes a swig as an example and smiles apologetically at the girl.

‘’ Sorry, Joly is our hypochondriac. I’m Grantaire, by the way.’’ 

‘’ Éponine,’’ the girl introduces herself and all of a sudden, the others are introducing themselves either. Grantaire can’t help but notice the girl’s eyes seems to linger at Marius, who is a bit red and quiet. 

‘’ Hey ‘Ponine.’’ The blond boy from earlier now takes the last vacant bottle of beer and looks at the group.

‘’ What is the problem you fight for?’’ he asks all of a sudden.

‘’ We don’t know yet. All we heard, rumors, is that the people are rising in Paris. So we came to see what is was about. Of course, on our way we found out more. All the things the government tries to keep quiet.’’ Combeferre knows exactly how to answer, but is intrigued by the fierce young man before him. It has been a very long time since he laid eyes on such a leader as this Enjolras. 

‘’ Well… I hope you know what you are getting yourselves in to. But all the help is welcome here.’’ Enjolras waves towards the empty table in the corner. ‘’ Let me know about the rumors you heard and if others were willing to join us.’’ And of course, Combeferre obliged and pushes Grantaire forward, because it is obvious that the guy is still in shock.


	4. Things are changing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's have some Jehan/Courfeyrac.
> 
> Love everyone who reads this!!!

‘’ Wow… He was just… -‘’

‘’ We know, ‘Taire. Just shut up already.’’ Bahorel is spread out on the couch, his arms behind his back and his eyes closed. 

‘’ Yeah, just keep cleaning,’’ pipes Jehan up and smiles innocently when Grantaire glares at him murderously. His hands are covered in bright yellow gloves and he has a cloth in front of his mouth, to keep the toxic fumes away from his lungs. 

‘’ I hate you all,’’ Grantaire murmurs and disappears in the bathroom again, where Courfeyrac is trying to clean the bath. His eyebrows are furrowed, probably because of the smell and the effort it takes to clean everything. ‘’ How’s it going?’’ 

‘’ Horrible. Why can’t we just take a break?’’ Courfeyrac pulls the cloth a few seconds from his mouth to answer, but puts it back quickly. The smell is horrible, you just don’t get used to it. 

‘’ I dunno. Just know I hate this. Why again did we have to clean it?’’

‘’ Because we ran off.’’

‘’ O… Right. There’s that.’’ Grantaire grips a sponge in his hand and is starting to scrub the walls, but his mind just seems to wander off. Off towards that blonde boy in the café. Enjolras. His name flows like a river in Grantaires mind, elegant and worthy of a god. 

‘’ Grantaire… Grantaire… TAIRE!’’ 

‘’ Huh?’’ Grantaire looks up and sees Courfeyrac smirking at him.

‘’ You’re drawing hearts… Someone in looooooooove with a blond revolutionary?’’

‘’ Just shut up, Courf,’’ Grantaire growls, but his cheeks are getting warmer. Honestly, he had only seen the young man for one time, this is ridiculous. He is ridiculous. But the boy, Enjolras, made such an impression. How his whole body moved, with the passion drenched into his whole being. The way his eyes flare in some particular part of his speech, how his jaw is clenched and his curls bounces up and down. That hair is something else, gold and unearthly. 

‘’ Whatever. LOVEEEE IS IN THEEEEE AAAIIIIRRR!!!!’’ 

‘’ COURFEYRAC YOU SHUT UP!’’ sounds Bahorels voice from the living room and Courfeyrac just laughs, but drops the argument, something Grantaire can kiss Bahorel for. 

It is more than two hours – TWO LONG HOURS – before they are done. Courfeyrac never stopped, he just toned his volume down. Once they were done, Grantaire was about this close to kill Courfeyrac. Only the fact that killing Courfeyrac won’t change anything, he will just come back to live. He’s like a parasite. You can’t get rid of him.

Grantaire goes from the bathroom straight to the kitchen. He needs a drink, right now. He smells like citrus, with thanks to all the cleaning supplies. 

‘’ ‘Taire, get me some –‘’

‘’ NO!’’ Grantaire shuts the refrigerator with a blow and retreats to the other living room, where only Jehan is present. 

‘’ Hey,’’ the poet barely looks up, just keeps on writing. Grantaire retreats towards his own sketchbooks and sits down. Only when he gets his hands on a pencil, Jehan notices. 

‘’ Inspiration?’’ is the only thing he asks and Grantaire only nods. He knows he hasn’t touched his stuff for years, but he has found a muse. 

Jehan says nothing, but he does put his things away. A Grantaire who is drawing is the most beautiful thing to see. Jehan sees how the dark-haired boy opens his book, hesitates, but then the first line is drawn. From that moment on, the world stops. Jehan is mesmerized by the dedicated look on Grantaires face, how concentrated he tries to get all the details right and to pour his feelings on the paper. It is so quiet, like some sort of fairytale. Jehan only realizes where they truly are when he feels someone is standing next to him. 

Courfeyrac has a light smile on his face while he looks at Grantaire, who doesn’t seem to notice. Jehan pulls the boy down, before he can say something –anything- and gives him a stern face. This is something special, Jehan wants it to be appreciated. Courfeyrac nods, understanding what the poet wants and just sits down, his arm snaking around the small boy. Almost unconsciously, Jehan leans into the hug and together they just watch Grantaire draw.

Grantaire doesn’t even notice the two when he switches material, the pencil just doesn’t feel right. He needs something… harder. So when he continues with charcoal, the drawings come quickly. 

It must have been hours, the others just came to watch for a few seconds, but were gone quickly. It was getting dark and Grantaire felt his eyes burn with sleep. His hands and face are covered in black smudges and he has to resist the urge to rub in his eyes. His spine cracks when he stretches and Grantaire looks around for the first time.

‘’ How long are you sitting there?’’ he asks Jehan and Courfeyrac suspicious. 

‘’ I never left,’’ is the only thing Jehan says, a smile on his face and his cheeks red, while Courfeyrac looks pleased with himself. 

‘’ What time is it?’’ Grantaire comes out of the chair and stumbles towards the kitchen to clean his hands. Only once Joly has used the bathroom will Grantaire go in there.

‘’ Uhm. Like two in the night?’’ Courfeyrac answers and Grantaire looks surprised. 

‘’ You have been watching me for five bloody hours?!’’

‘’ Uhm. Yeah, seems about right.’’

Grantaire buries his face in his –now clean- hands and sights. ‘’ You guys are idiots.’’ 

‘’ Sure… Can we see them?’’

‘’ No!’’ Grantaire shouts immediately at Courfeyrac, who puts his hands in the air.

‘’ Sorry. I’ll be gone.’’ And Courfeyrac slips into the bedroom. Grantaire just glares at Jehan. 

‘’ I know. It isn’t made to be shown. I understand.’’ Maybe Jehan is the only one who truly knows. Grantaire can’t show the drawing, he is even afraid to look back himself. 

When he is alone, he picks up the book and goes through the old sketches, from decades ago. A tint of gloom was shown on everyone of them. Grantaire hesitates, but then he flips his last drawing and looks at a sketch of a barricade. Hope, hope that they will survive the night. A group of students is visible on the bottom of the furniture, most of them Grantaire can identify as his friends. In a corner, on some stairs, there he is. Enjolras. Watching the barricade. All are dressed as the students who died in the June Rebellion of 1832, a year Grantaire had almost forgotten about.

The next picture to catch his attention is the first he made with charcoal. Black waves all over the paper, identified as Enjolras’ curls. Grantaires breath catches in his throat while he looks at his creations, they are beautiful and horrible at the same time. The man staggers towards the couch and pulls a bottle of whiskey from a cupboard. 

In the small bedroom in the corner, Jehan can’t sleep. His mind is wandering with thoughts about Grantaire, Enjolras and Courfeyrac. The first, because of what he witnessed this evening, how the cynic lived again for a few hours. Enjolras, because he is the one to drive Grantaire, to make a change without him even knowing. The last person, he thinks longer about. Courfeyrac is… He is something else. 

‘’ Can’t sleep?’’ Speaking of the devil…

‘’ No. I just… Grantaire truly has some faith in him, if only he realizes that and shows it.’’ Jehan turns his head towards the person standing next to the bunk beds. 

‘’ I know. We all know. Now, move over. I’m not going to climb that creepy ladder while I’m tired and not entirely sober.’’ Courfeyrac laughs and waits until Jehan shifted to the wall. ‘’ Hmm… This is nice. Your pillow already smells like flowers.’’ 

Jehan smiles and makes himself comfortable. ‘’ That can be because there are dried flowers in the pillowcase.’’ 

Courfeyrac feels something tingle in his stomach and automatically he puts his arm around the small poet, who tenses, but after a few seconds lies his head on Courfeyracs chest. He feels his eyelids drop, but he manages to keep watching Jehan, who is smiling content and slowly fading into unconsciousness. 

‘’ You are remarkable. Don’t ever change.’’ Courfeyrac puts his lips on Jehans hair and allows himself to let the sleep take him over. The last thing he notices is Jehan shifting more into his arm and Courfeyrac smiles. This time, many things are changing.


	5. Oh Hell No!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a fight...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soo sorry!   
> This is such a small and boring chapter...  
> Maybe I'll put the next chapter on in a few hours ;)
> 
> However, enjoy this one!

It was three days since Les Amis set foot into Paris. Only after three days, when everyone was in the basement, someone knocked on the door.

‘’ Report,’’ is said as soon as Jehan opened the door and a soldier walks in.

‘’ I’m sorry, what?’’ Courfeyrac gets up from the couch, where he was lying down. He looks genuinely confused. ‘’ Who are you exactly?’’ 

The man before them is young, can’t be older than 25. A moustache is covering most of his face, but his eyes are bright, no lines are visible that can be a sign of age. His clothes are recognizable as the uniform of the –not so- secret service that is hovering through France. Nevertheless, the man stands in the basement with an air of authority and must be used to be in charge. 

‘’ I’m Sir Fraser. High Commandant. And I’m here to be sure you are following the new rules High King Javert explained this morning.’’

‘’ What rules? Dude, I just woke up.’’ 

‘’ ‘Taire, stop talking,’’ Combeferre says warningly and walks towards the man. ‘’ I’m sorry. We don’t have a television right here. Never had the money to buy one. So if you will kindly explain the new rules, maybe we can fix something right now.’’

It was more than two hours later, before the Commandant left the basement and everyone was on the edge of an mental breakdown. Courfeyracs eyes keep twitching and Jehan has to sit on him to keep him steady. Bahorels hands are constantly clenching into fists and Feuilly is pacing behind the couch.

‘’ O god,’’ says Combeferre once the locked the door. ‘’ That was truly horrible.’’ 

‘’ No shit Sherlock,’’ Grantaire murmurs, his face on the floor, while the rest of his body is… also on the floor.

‘’ Grantaire, not now. This only goes to show that we must do something this time. No watching.’’ After those words of Combeferre, everybody looks up and pays attention.

‘’ So what will we do?’’

‘’ Join the resistance, of course,’’ Combeferre answers Jehan. ‘’ We can just be our own group, our own rebellion, but a part of the resistance.’’ 

‘’ I think we should ask that boy, Enjolras, to help us.’’ 

‘’ WHAT?!’’ Grantaire looks up and his gaze is focused on Marius, who suggested that. ‘’ No bloody way!’’

‘’ Why not? He is fierce, he is passionate and I’m sure he wants to win.’’ 

‘’ I don’t care. He is not joining us.’’ Grantaire ignores the feeling inside him, just thinking about Enjolras being a part of them, to see him more often and to be able to talk to him. No. He isn’t immortal, he can die. And he will, if he is a part of them. How many times have they been shot? Uncountable. Enjolras will be in too much danger. The beautiful boy must live a whole life, not die within the next year.

‘’ ‘Taire… Calm down…’’

‘’ No way, he’s not joining us.’’

‘’ Don’t you see how good of an ally he will be?’’ Courfeyrac asks and looks concerned at the boy, who is literally fuming with anger.

‘’ NO!’’

‘’ ‘Taire… Come on.’’

‘’ No way! Not going to happen!’’ Grantaire is already standing and shifting towards the door.

‘’ We are going to ask him, Grantaire,’’ Joly speaks. ‘’ He really is a good revolutionary. He can help the people so much, if he has the right group around him. And I’m sure he isn’t going to back down when we don’t help him. He is going to fight, so why not with us?’’

Grantaire doesn’t answer, basically because he just doesn’t know. Why can’t Enjolras join them? Conflicted, the man walks towards the door and watches all of his friends.

‘’ Never mind me,’’ he sights and disappears on the street. He needs some time away, like right now. 

‘’ We won’t,’’ Courfeyrac calls after him and Jehan slaps his arm.

‘’ Don’t do that, he is confused. Why do you think he started drawing again? He is changing.’’ Hopefully, in a good way…

‘’ Yeah… So… What are we going to do? Convince Enjolras?’’ Combeferre takes matters in his own hand again.

‘’ I suppose. It’s going to be fun.’’

‘’ No Courf, you’re not going to tease ‘Taire.’’ Joly looks strict at the laughing boy, who just shrugs. 

‘’ It is cute.’’

‘’ Leave both of them alone. I mean it.’’


	6. Drunkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R is angry and goes out drinking.  
> With a nice companion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YESSSSS  
> E/R IN THIS CHAPTER!!  
> HAVE FUN!!!!
> 
> and it's also a lot longer than the last one ;)

‘’ You know that drinking is made illegal?’’

‘’ Since when?’’ Grantaire looks up from his drink, straight in the blue eyes that are positioned on Enjolras’ face. The dark-haired man is a bit taken back, but whatever, everything is fucked up now.

‘’ This morning, don’t you watch the news?’’

‘’ No tv,’’ is the only explanation that Grantaire gives and takes another swig of his drink. 

‘’ If anyone notices you, you’re dead.’’ 

‘’ I’d like to see him try.’’ Grantaire’s voice is cold, cynical. Enjolras has a feeling that it is a joke he cannot understand. He gets himself seated on the stool next to Grantaire, who is nursing his third bottle. 

For some time, it is quiet between the two of them and the empty café. Now alcohol is illegal, no one will go out at night. 

‘’ Chetta, can I have one?’’ The dark girl behind the bar smiles at Enjolras, before she draws up another drink. ‘’ Going for the alcohol tonight, Enj?’’

‘’ You are not supposed to serve it.’’

‘’ And I have a cellar with alcohol. So drink up, you have more to go, before the patrol comes.’’ The landlady, Musichetta, winks and gives Grantaire another bottle. ‘’ And at this moment, I truly love you.’’ She kisses Grantaire on his cheek and the man smiles. 

‘’ Thanks. Love you too.’’ He raises his bottle to Enjolras, who clinks his against the glass and downs it. 

‘’ Take it easy you,’’ Musichetta laughs and slaps Enjolras behind his head. ‘’ You’re a lightweight. No chance in keeping up with the drunkard here.’’

Grantaire looks at his bottle with frowned eyebrows. ‘’ Is it weird I have no hard feelings for that insult whatsoever?’’ 

‘’ Nah. It means you are used to it.’’ Musichetta pats his arm affectionately. 

‘’ You can say that,’’ Grantaire murmurs and Enjolras looks concerned. It is plain obvious the man before him is troubled by something. But it seems he just doesn’t want to talk about it.

Of course, Enjolras has to ask. ‘’ Are you all right?’’

‘’ Why wouldn’t I be?’’ Grantaire immediately retorts and his eyes are locked in those of Enjolras. 

‘’ Because you look troubled.’’ 

‘’ Just an argument with the others.’’

‘’ About what?’’ Grantaire looks at the blond boy incredulously. ‘’ I mean, it helps if you talk about it, I think.’’ Enjolras isn’t exactly sure about his words, more so when Grantaire glares at him.

‘’ What my problems are, is nothing of your concern,’’ he snaps and Enjolras leans back.

‘’ Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you.’’ 

Grantaire visibly deflates and sights. ‘’ No worries. I’m just no good company right now.’’

‘’ Still better than no company.’’ Enjolras smiles and empties his bottle. Grantaire just looks at him, shrugs and lays his head on the bar, only to be countered by Musichetta. 

‘’ This is no bed. If you are tired, go to sleep. In your own bed.’’

Grumbling, Grantaire gets up again and eyes Enjolras. ‘’ Never seen a drunk?’’ 

‘’ Not one so desperate.’’ Immediately, Grantaire turns his whole body towards Enjolras.

‘’ Let me tell you something. I am desperate, I know. I am cynic, know that too. I have no reason to be different. Why should I? What difference would it make? It is all the same, Javert is not the first dictator and certainly won’t be the last. So let me ask you this, why the hope? What will it matter?’’

‘’ It only matters for the people who are suppressed by Javert. Who are suffering right now. They deserve a life, a good and happy and free life. And if a new dictator shows, people will see an example in what we did this time and fight for their freedom, even if we aren’t able to help them anymore. It is about the change we make on a small scale, for now. If we succeed, we will continue, until the earth is free.’’

Flames are rising in Enjolras eyes, icy flames of passion and rage. Grantaire is struck by those eyes, struck by a passion he can’t feel himself. It is so beautiful, the feeling that Enjolras is capable of feeling, but what Grantaire is a stranger to. 

‘’ Why? Seriously, why bother? What can you do against the whole government? You’re just a boy.’’ 

Grantaire just doesn’t see the wide eyes Musichietta gives him, a sign he must stop.

‘’ Do you think I’m not capable of doing anything? That I have no meaning? Is that it?’’ Cold rage is starting to show at Enjolras face and the blond man is certainly annoyed by Grantaire.

‘’ I don’t think so,’’ says Grantaire honestly. The alcohol is having an effect right now. ‘’ I believe you can do something, I just don’t believe if it will have an effect in a long term.’’ 

‘’ It will have.’’ Enjolras is so certain of it, his whole body speaks for him. Grantaire smiles a bit and shrugs. 

‘’ Maybe you just have to convince me,’’ he sights and downs his drink, what is quickly replaced with another one.

‘’ Why do you drink so much?’’ Enjolras is getting on with another subject. He just doesn’t want to admit he is inspired by the cynic before him, who challenges him, who keeps him thinking in just the one conversation they have had. The dark-haired man before him just said that he believed in him, that he believed that Enjolras can do something. It is one of the most inspiring things Enjolras ever heard about him.

In the meantime, Grantaire is nursing his full bottle. 

‘’ To forget, I think.’’

‘’ Forget what?’’

Grantaire sees all the deaths, all the young boys and girls who had a miserable, poor life what ended in a gruesome way. The small children who were crying, afraid of the people who were killing everyone. The women who were raped, men who tried to defend themselves, but lost.

‘’ You don’t want to know.’’ Grantaire’s voice is cold, hollow and full of grief. Enjolras is actually shocked, how much pain must one man go through to have that tone in one’s voice. Surely more than he can understand. So he doesn’t push the man, knowing it will only push him the wrong way. 

‘’ I’m sorry.’’

‘’ Don’t be,’’ Grantaire almost snaps. ‘’ You couldn’t know.’’ He looks at his hand, who had his own will and is now on Enjolras’ arm. The blond man has his gaze on the same spot and slowly looks up.

For some time, it is quiet between the two of them. Enjolras just finished his third bottle of alcohol when he started talking again.

‘’ You know, I never met anyone who was so intriguing and challenging.’’ Grantaire looks confused, so Enjolras quickly goes on. ‘’ I mean, you are making me think of my own believes, reconsidering it, just in the hour I talked to you. However, I can’t get any real belief from you, it’s like you really don’t believe in anything. That is something I want to find out, how you came in such a state. I really want to know what you do believe in and why.’’ 

‘’ I believe in you.’’ 

The words were just a whisper and Grantaire wasn’t even looking at Enjolras. He is just honest. Enjolras’ speech hit him, made him fall just a little bit more for the blond god.

‘’ Really?’’ Enjolras is truly flattered, a strange feeling in his stomach makes notice, letting Enjolras realize he wants Grantaire to believe in him. He wants those blue-green eyes shine with hope, hope in him. He wants to see those curls in the crowd, looking up at him speaking. He wants to show Grantaire that the world can be changed, that they truly can make a difference. 

‘’ Yes.’’ Grantaire says that one word like a promise. A promise he will always be at Enjolras’ side, as long as the blond boy wants him there. And Enjolras don’t want the cynic to leave either. 

Slowly, like in those cliché movies, Grantaire leans towards Enjolras and he can feel the warm breath on his face. No, he can’t. He can’t break Enjolras’ trust right now. He can’t kiss him.

But Enjolras saw the flicker in Grantaire’s eyes, the flicker of doubt, but also a flicker of hope. He wants to hold that imagine, of a Grantaire who goes for something. He wants to see some happy emotion, just some happiness, in Grantaire’s eyes.

Very cautious, his hands trembling, Enjolras cups Grantaire’s face and makes him look at him.

‘’ Thank you,’’ he whispers and now he is the one who leans forward. Once Grantaire catches up, disbelief is written all over his face, but his eyes are shining. That was what Enjolras was looking for, so he closes his eyes and softly, his lips meet those of the dark-haired boy.

His lips tastes like alcohol, not really surprising, but also like salt and… paint? It must be, it tastes like the smell that lingers in an art gallery. Enjolras is quite hesitant, how far can he go? Mustn’t he stop for the sake of Grantaire and the new-found friendship? But Grantaire answers that question for him. 

After getting over his first shock, he tastes the sweet, light alcohol and the spicy passion of Enjolras’ lips and realizes this is his only chance. So Grantaire starts kissing the boy back and his hand gets stuck in those blond curls. Tomorrow he will regret this, he is sure of it. Enjolras and he are both intoxicated and he is ruining everything right now. But he tastes so damn good.

Enjolras feels his resistance fail and he just can’t think anymore. All his thoughts are focused on how Grantaire deepens the kiss and the electric shocks he feels through his whole body when their tongs meet and are circling around each other. He gets off his stool and his body is pressed against Grantaire’s, his hands searching for the right spot, which he finds when one of his hands is on Grantaire’s hip and the other in his neck.

Grantaire’s hands are still both in Enjolras’ hair, messing the whole thing up and enjoying the soft feeling. Enjolras is actually standing between his legs and Grantaire can feel it in his abdomen. He tries to get even closer to Enjolras, how far that is humanly possible.

The first time they both became aware of their surroundings is by a muffled thump, like something falling on the floor. Both boys look up to see Musichetta smirking at them, while Éponine looks dumbstruck, she was also the one who dropped the plate. 

‘’ Oh. My. God.’’ 

Grantaire and Enjolras both blushes and look away. Both are suddenly uncomfortably aware of their positions and surroundings.

‘’ I… I should probably go…’’ Grantaire whispers and untangles himself from Enjolras, who seems to be in shock. Quietly, the dark-haired boy collect his belongings and heads for the door. He is even half through it, when he feels a hand on his arm. 

‘’ Will you come tomorrow? I’ll speech in front of the palace.’’ Enjolras looks at him pleadingly and Grantaire nods before he can think. Enjolras’ face breaks into a smile. ‘’ Thank you. Tomorrow, three o’clock.’’ Enjolras lingers for a few seconds, then makes a decision and kisses Grantaire swiftly on his cheek. ‘’ Bye.’’ 

After that, Enjolras disappears through the back door, going god-knows-where. Grantaire, still in shock and with a dazed look on his face, steps into the cold. His hand unconsciously keeps stroking his lips, where Enjolras’ were mere minutes ago.


	7. Talks between Jehan and Grantaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire is conflicted and Jehan helps him out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a thing for a Jehan/R bromance, like they are just best friends ever :D

‘’ ‘Taire, what’s wrong?’’ Jehan asks concerned.

 

For over a week, since the Kiss between Enjolras and Grantaire, the man became subdued and quiet. Even more he drowned himself in the alcohol and was gone most of the time. Marius hadn’t seen him at all, what is not so really special, since the guy himself was also gone most of the time. Courfeyrac said he had found some girl he was admiring. Colette or something. It was with a C, that’s sure. But all the others were more worried about Grantaire, who started to look tired and old, something that could not be possible. The times Grantaire did come in the house, it was just to grab something or to sleep, and even that didn’t happen every night. This is the seventh day and Jehan is the only one home when Grantaire was there, so he grabbed the man’s arm and held him on his spot.

 

‘’ Nothing Jehan. Just… leave me alone.’’

 

Grantaire tried to pull himself free, but the poet’s grip is firm and Grantaire gives up, knowing his coordination isn’t the best at the moment. He is just… empty right now. He needs a drink, his thoughts are coming back. But Jehan pushes Grantaire towards the corner where their artistic stuff lies and pulls him on some pillows.

 

‘’ Fat chance in hell. You tell me right now what is bothering you.’’

 

Jehan knows the door is locked right now, Courfeyrac did it on his way out, to _protect_ Jehan from thugs, who could come in. Jehan knew Courfeyrac wanted him to talk to Grantaire, and knew the locked door wasn’t for thugs. Everyone knows Jehan can save himself, he is not fragile at all. To have the guts to walk around in flowery pants and flowers in his hair, you have to be strong, very strong. So Jehan knows he can handle Grantaire right now, even though the cynic wouldn’t think of attacking the poet. They are best friends from the beginning, no one knows how it started, except maybe Jehan.

 

_‘’ Are you drunk?’’_

_‘’ Shut up and let me.’’_

_‘’ I never said I had anything against it, I just hoped there was some left.’’_

_Grantaire looks up at the poet and stares. After a few seconds, he raises the flask and passes it on to Jehan, who takes a large sip and starts coughing almost immediately. Grantaire throws his head in his neck and laughs out loud. Jehan blushes and passes the flask back between two coughs._

_‘’ What is this?’’_

_‘’ I honestly don’t know. Something the guy in the shop said that would break even me. He was wrong.’’_

_‘’ How on earth can you drink that stuff?’’ Jehan asks, still coughing._

_‘’ Eyes closed and swallow it all down,’’ Grantaire says and only after a few seconds, the penny drops._

_Jehan keeps looking at him with big eyes. Suddenly, he bolted from the couch, in search for some ink and a pen. Grantaire just started laughing again, while Jehan found the pen and ink, but no paper was lying around. So he used the first flat surface he could find._

_‘’ Are you… Are you writing my own words on my arm?’’ Grantaire asks when he stopped laughing._

_Jehan nods and keeps writing._

_‘’ Why?’’_

_‘’ Because they inspire me for a new poem.’’_

_‘’ You are a poet?’’ Grantaire asks surprised. Although, he should have foreseen it, with the dreamy look and the bright colored clothes._

_‘’ Problem with it?’’_

_‘’ Not at all, but – why are you still writing on my arm?’’_

_‘’ Inspiration.’’_

_‘’ But why my arm?’’_

_‘’ There’s no paper, now shush.’’_

_Jehan keeps writing, until Grantaire’s arm is covered in little, curly words and the man himself already fell asleep. Jehan puts the pen and ink away and feels his eyes drop. He is even too tired to get up towards the bed they made for him in the corner, he just lays down next to Grantaire. The drunkard puts subconsciously his arm around the smaller poet and stays asleep. Jehan followed him mere seconds later._

Now Jehan looks strict at Grantaire, who shrinks under the glare and looks away.

 

‘’ ‘Taire, you have to tell someone. You know I won’t say a thing to the others. Please.’’

 

Jehan is almost begging and Grantaire makes the mistake to look up. He never could have resisted those eyes. With a sigh, Grantaire gives in.

 

‘’ It’s Enjolras.’’

 

‘’ What about him?’’ Jehan asks quietly.

 

‘’ He… Well… A week ago, after the fight, I went to the café and he was there too. We started talking and drinking and in the end he… he… he kissed me.’’

 

‘’ But ‘Taire, that’s great!’’

 

‘’ No it isn’t!’’ Grantaire’s eyes are soberly clear and burning with rage. ‘’ Don’t you see, Jehan? I’m hurting myself only more by letting him come close. He will die. We all know it, he will die at some point. And I? I stay here, alone. Because by no chance God is kind enough to make Enjolras just like us. He is just a boy, and I am old, I’m _bloody 1916 years_ old! I can’t do anything! I can’t even die to free myself from that pain that I will feel when I lose him. I just can’t, Jehan. I can’t let him come any closer than he is already. How… How will I live after this? I… I can’t believe I say this, but I _love_ him already, after just one fucking kiss! God surely hates me, for allowing this to happen and to have me in so much pain it’s killing me inside!’’

 

Tears are streaming down Grantaire’s face and Jehan’s eyes aren’t dry either. Grantaire has so much pain inside him, Jehan wished he just could take it all away.

 

‘’ Sweety, don’t think like that –‘’

 

‘’ Then how? I am lost, Jehan. I have no way to go.’’

 

‘’ Yes you have. Don’t interrupt me, please, but you have a way to go. A way with Enjolras, beside him. You think you can’t be with him, but why not? He likes you, obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t kiss you, not even if he was drunk. Give him a chance, Grantaire, he deserves one. And so do you. I want you to be happy and Enjolras seems to make that happen when you let him. And maybe you will lose him in the end, but then you can look back on an amazing time together. I’m sorry if this sounds hard, but you are already hurting too much. Why not take advantage of the moment right now? You can be happy, much happier than you ever was. Don’t worry about the future, we’ll deal with it when it gets there, even if it means finding a way to kill you. I promise.’’

 

Grantaire is at a loss of words after Jehan’s speech. That little poet is even volunteering to kill him.

 

‘’ You can’t kill me, Jehan. Please. I never want you to become my murderer. We’ll find a way.’’

 

And Jehan hugs Grantaire closely, holding on for dear life. Grantaire just gave in. The man knows he is going to try it, to ruin everything he believed in, to be happy.

 

‘’ Thank you,’’ Jehan whispers after a few minutes of hugging.

 

‘’ No Jehan. Thank _you._ ’’ Grantaire pulls a blanket over his friend and himself and slumps himself against the wall, Jehan still in his arms.  He will find Enjolras the next morning, for now, he has no intention to move. After a few hours, when the others came back, that is exactly how they found the two of them. Sleeping against each other in the corner, covered in a paint-stained blanket. Courfeyrac shrieks and Feuilly has to slap him on the back of the head to take him back to the great living room.

 

‘’ I think it’s time to bring him in,’’ Combeferre whispers and disappears in his room.

 

It is only the next day, when he can explain just what he meant. That is, when he walks in again with Enjolras. Jehan looks at Grantaire, who is washed up and sober, but white as a sheet. He wanted to find Enjolras in his own time, not all of sudden in the morning.

 

‘’ Hey Enjolras!’’

 

Of course, Courfeyrac must be the first to say something and jumps towards the blond boy, who is looking a bit wary at everybody.

 

‘’ Courf, just shut up and don’t make him feel uncomfortable.’’

 

‘’ Sorry sweety.’’

 

‘’ Oh god. Jehan and Courfeyrac, don’t do that here!’’

 

‘’ Why not Bahorel? Wanna join?’’

 

‘’ _God no!_ ’’

 

‘’ GUYS!’’ Grantaire yells all of a sudden and everyone gets quiet. ‘’ Thank you.’’ He falls again in the couch and grips his head. He hates hangovers.

 

Courfeyrac just shrugs and kisses Jehan on his nose, the little poet smiles and leans more in the embrace.

 

‘’ Is this normal?’’ Enjolras finally asks and gets himself seated next to Grantaire, who barely looks up.

 

‘’ Yup, get used to it,’’ he says, not unkindly. Enjolras smiles and Combeferre sits down on the table.

 

‘’ So. What do you say?’’ he asks, probably a continuation of an earlier conversation. Enjolras stays quiet for some time, looking around.

 

‘’ Sure. I’ll join you,’’ he finally says and Grantaire looks up like lightning struck him.

 

Combeferre smiles brightly. ‘’ Great! Welcome by Les Amis de l’ABC.’’

 

 


	8. The dark side of Jehan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras must go home, and Jehan has a devilish plan ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lot's of ExR in this chapter (yaay)  
> also, I'm going to London in a few days and I'm horribly behind at writing...  
> So I guess there will be some time without chapters and I'm sorry...  
> BUT the best chapter until now (that will be the smush) will be posted soon!!
> 
> soo enjoy!

‘’ No really. Courfeyrac, I have to go. No, I don’t want another drink. Really.’’ 

Enjolras is already standing by the door, while Courfeyrac is still trying to convince Enjolras to stay.

‘’ You can camp in ‘Taire’s bed. He isn’t here anyway.’’

‘’ Hey!’’ Grantaire yells from the artistic room, where he was hiding all night.

‘’ Oh. Well, I guess he doesn’t mind sharing.’’

‘’ Courf, quit it. Now. Enjolras, we’ll see you tomorrow.’’ Feuilly gets in between and pushes the laughing man towards his own bedroom.

‘’ Yeah. See you tomorrow.’’ Enjolras sounds a bit subdued and Jehan looks from him to Grantaire.

‘’ You know. ‘Taire and I will walk you home. You never know who is out on the street this time.’’ 

‘’ You mean like that Montparnasse kid? He’s a creep,’’ says Bahorel and Jehan nods, before he pulls Grantaire on his feet and hurls him towards the door, where Enjolras is standing with wide eyes. Grantaire, on the other hand, is looking murderous. 

‘’ You’ll thank me later,’’ Jehan whispers and opens the door. 

Once they are in the cold, Grantaire turns to Jehan fully.

‘’ What was that?’’

‘’ You walk with Enjolras home. I’m going around in the park. See you later.’’ 

After that, Jehan has disappeared and Grantaire feels uncomfortable, all of a sudden, and won’t look Enjolras in the eye. He hadn’t had the chance to be alone with the blond boy since he realized he should take this chance. The first time alone since that kiss. 

‘’ Hey,’’ Grantaire just says, his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie and his curls covered under a beanie. Around them, white snow is starting to fall and both boys turn to look at it.

‘’ Really? It’s April, I don’t want any snow,’’ Enjolras moans and pulls his coat closer.

‘’ Well… Nothing we can do about it now, is it? Let’s go, I have no need to get soaked.’’ 

Grantaire walks first, going towards the nearest café. 

‘’ Where are we going?’’ Enjolras asks, trailing after the dark-haired man.

‘’ We are having a night out in Paris, since you said yesterday you never do that.’’

‘’ And for a reason, I don’t want to be –‘’

‘’ Yes I know. You want to live for France and the course you’re fighting for, drinking will only distract you.’’ 

Enjolras nods slowly, that was exactly what he said yesterday. But was Grantaire there? He never saw the man in Le Musain, what became their meeting spot. Feuilly, Bahorel and Joly actually found a job in Paris, as one of the lucky ones, so they were gone most of the day. In Le Musain, everyone would come together to discuss the tyranny and to built up their friendship with Enjolras. 

‘’ Fine, but only one night,’’ he insist and Grantaire laughs. 

‘’ Decide that later, mon ami.’’ 

‘’ You know. What I always wanted to ask. Is Courfeyrac British?’’ 

‘’ Irish, actually. His mother came from Ireland and Courf lived with her until he was ten, then his father took him to France, where he had to learn french. We always tease him about it, he is the only one who isn’t a native French. Although it doesn’t make him love France any less. And let’s see… Jehan’s father was Canadian, Bossuet is for a small part Greek, I thought his great-grandmother. And uhm... that’s it, the rest of us is all French.’’ 

‘’ Oh. I still like Courfeyracs accent.’’

‘’ We all do, although he thinks we only mock him for it.’’

Enjolras laughs and his eyes find those of Grantaire. They are still walking through the streets, snow falling all around them, heightening the lights of the lanterns. 

‘’ Come on, let’s go in here.’’

Enjolras points towards a small café on his left, soft light shining from the windows, where pies are stored. Grantaire shrugs and follows the blond young man inside. Once in the heat of the café, they both sit down and Grantaire immediately feels the discomfort returning. 

‘’ So. You want anything?’’

‘’ Coffee with baileys,’’ Grantaire answers. He needs alcohol, right now. And caffeine. He really needs it, right now. 

Enjolras smiles and walks towards the counter. 

‘’ No alcohol, Grantaire! What do you want that I can get you?’’ 

Grantaire looks up and groans. That’s the problem when he isn’t in the Musain.

‘’ Coffee. Black. Like my soul.’’ 

‘’ Oh shut up,’’ Enjolras laughs and orders the coffee and his own.

Grantaire puts his head on his hands and watches Enjolras’ back. How his shirt is clinging around his upper body, his jacket abandoned on the seat next to Grantaire. And those pants… It must be illegal, to wear such tight pants. His bum is –

‘’ Like what you see?’’ 

Enjolras was turned around with the coffee and saw Grantaire staring. The boy is startled and blushes. The coffee is now on the table, but totally forgotten while Enjolras keeps eye-contact with Grantaire. The cynic feels like his head is on fire, how Enjolras is watching every feature on his face.

‘’ Do you like what you see?’’ Grantaire eventually asks and Enjolras lifts one eyebrow.

‘’ Certainly.’’ 

If Grantaire could become any redder, he would be on fire. Enjolras’ corners of his mouth are trembling, fighting against laughing. He loses. His head rolls back while he is laughing. Grantaire frowns and crosses his arms before his chest. 

‘’ Am I funny?’’

‘’ You certainly are.’’

‘’ Hm.’’

‘’ Aw come on Grantaire.’’

‘’ Why do you call me that?’’ Grantaire asks all of a sudden. ‘’ I mean, most people call me ‘Taire. Or even R.’’

‘’ I like it. I’m no person for nicknames.’’

‘’ So I can’t call you Enjy?’’

The glare that Grantaire gets would have killed him immediately, would it be possible.

‘’ No.’’

‘’ Awwh.’’

‘’ Not going to happen,’’ Enjolras insists and finally breaks the eye-contact to take a zip of his coffee. 

Grantaire keeps smiling and watching Enjolras.

‘’ Did you tell anyone about us?’’ he finally asks and Enjolras lowers his coffee.

‘’ No. I wanted to talk to you first.’’ 

Oh shit. No… He is going to reject him. He doesn’t want this.

‘’ Oh,’’ is all Grantaire can say.

‘’ Yeah, I mean… I wanted to be sure if you wanted to continue this. Because it was amazing.’’ 

Enjolras is looking at his hands after his confession. It was great for him, but afterwards Grantaire was awful. He saw the man sometimes, pissed and barely able to stand. Enjolras really thought he was the source. But after a week, when Combeferre invited him over, he looked much better. So maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe he had a chance. 

Grantaire puts his hands on top of Enjolras’ and makes sure the boy looks at him. His eyes are shining and a small smile is on his face.

‘’ I really want to try this. I honestly like you.’’ 

Grantaire feels his heart flutter in his chest by those words and can’t say anything himself. He leans over the table and puts his lips softly on Enjolras’. Without the alcohol, the experience is even more intoxicating and they forget everything around them, until Enjolras knocks over his coffee.

‘’ Oops,’’ he laughs and Grantaire can’t let go of his hand. 

‘’ Let’s go outside,’’ the dark-haired man suggests and is already putting on his long coat. Enjolras hesitates, but then he gets up and pulls Grantaire into the snow.

‘’ It’s beautiful,’’ Grantaire whispers once they are outside, looking at the falling snow around them. He is having a firm grip on Enjolras’ hand and everything is much more beautiful like this. It’s like he can only see the great things, he can only see the little things around Enjolras. And he loves it. Suddenly he can paint so much, things he never painted before.

‘’ True,’’ Enjolras sighs and their arms are swinging in between them. Paris at night, when everyone is already sleeping and the electricity is failing is half of the houses, you can even see the stars. In the middle of Paris!

‘’ You’re beautiful too,’’ Grantaire admits and is studying Enjolras’ face this time, more beautiful than everything else, with a pink blush on his cheeks. 

‘’ So are you.’’

‘’ Cheesy,’’ Grantaire laughs and all of a sudden, he feels Enjolras’ arm around him and he leans into the embrace. The blond boy only has a few inches advantage on him, but it is enough for Grantaire to put his head on Enjolras’ shoulder. Together they walk down the road, all alone in the snow. It’s a magical moment, how they walk there, just the two of them, no unhappy thoughts. No tyranny to overthrow, just the two of them. 

So it is in the middle of the street, that Enjolras kisses Grantaire, right under the snowflakes and the warm, yellow light from the lamps around them. This couldn’t be more perfect, just –

‘’ Woooohooo!’’ 

‘’ Fuck,’’ Grantaire grumbles against Enjolras’ lips and part from him. ‘’ Courfeyrac! Just this once, could you just be at home?’’

‘’ No way, I couldn’t let Jehan out there alone. Who knows what would happen.’’ 

Courfeyrac is grinning broadly, a mischievous gloss in his eyes.

‘’ I hate you,’’ Grantaire growls and really hates Courfeyrac for destroying the moment. He can feel that Enjolras is really uncomfortable next to him, just amazing.

‘’ Fine, fine. I’m on my way. Where did Jehan go?’’

‘’ The park, of course.’’ 

‘’ Oh, yes. Bye.’’ 

And Courfeyrac is gone. But he takes the moment with him and Grantaire moans, before he hides his face in Enjolras’ jacket.

‘’ I hate Courf.’’

‘’ At the moment, so do I. Come on, I still have to go home.’’ 

Grantaire’s eyes get big and he can only stare at Enjolras, who is oblivious to everything. So Grantaire didn’t see his fantasies come true, but he did see the inside of Enjolras’ room. A small attic room with a beautiful view, a bed, a desk with a laptop and many books. That’s literally it. 

‘’ I like it,’’ Grantaire says nonetheless and feels a little awkward in the room.

‘’ Thank you,’’ smiles Enjolras and mere seconds later, he has Grantaire against him and they are making out.

Breathless they part almost an hour later. ‘’ I think you should go,’’ Enjolras gasps and Grantaire nods dazed.

He picks up his coat and slips it on. ‘’ See you tomorrow?’’ he asks and Enjolras nods. 

‘’ Of course.’’

After that, Grantaire disappears into the night, the smile on his face is impossible to remove, even if he wanted to.


	9. I hate this weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The snow never stopped and Grantaire made a BIG mistake!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweeties, I'm going on a vacation!!!!  
> I'm leaving in two days, a week in the sun!! Yes yes yes!  
> I am actually counting on finishing this story in that week, so after that I can post everything and start with something new.  
> I will be updating in that week, since I am now on chapter 12, so you have 2 more chapters ready!  
> For now, enjoy this one!

Two days have passed. Two days, without being able to go outside. Two days in the basement.

It started the day after Grantaire and Enjolras acknowledged their feelings for each other. The snow never stopped falling after that evening and Enjolras rushed down the stairs, in his hands some bags with groceries. 

‘’ It’s madness out there,’’ he says, shaking the snow out of his hair. ‘’ The snow is already three foot high, at the end of the day, we won’t be able to get outside.’’ 

‘’ And that’s the reason I want spring,’’ Courfeyrac sights.

‘’ How many years ago was it when it wasn’t snowing in April?’’ Jehan asks.

‘’ Uhm… Like… Ten years? I don’t know…’’

‘’ Yes, ten years ago, so stop whining.’’ 

In the meantime, Grantaire appears in the kitchen.

‘’ Did you bring booze?’’ he asks Enjolras, who just drops down on one of the chairs and pulls of his shoes. 

For some reason, Enjolras never keeps his shoes on. Never. Once he is inside, they are off and on his socks the man continues. The boy has been part of Les Amis for two weeks now and it was the first thing Joly asked. 

‘’ Why do you take your shoes off? You know you can catch-‘’

‘’ Jollly, not again those illnesses.’’

‘’ But Bahorel-‘’

‘’ I take them off, because I hate these shoes. They don’t fit right and I just don’t have the money to buy good ones.’’ 

‘’ … Oh.’’

So Enjolras stretches his legs and looks up at Grantaire.

‘’ Nope. Just got the food and some soda.’’

‘’ Really man? We have to stay here god-knows how long and we have no alcohol and – why are you laughing?’’ 

Enjolras tries to hide his grin, but is unsuccessful. From behind his chair, another bag appears and he gives it to Grantaire.

‘’ Just don’t drink it all at once. It’s for all of us, you know.’’ 

Grantaire starts laughing and stashes the bag on the counter, where after he grabs one bottle and drops down on the chair next to Enjolras.

‘’ Cheers,’’ he says, lifting his bottle before he takes a sip.

‘’ You know it is still morning,’’ Enjolras says disapprovingly.

‘’ Yup,’’ is all Grantaire says, obviously not caring. 

‘’ GRANTAIRE! PUT THAT BOTTLE DOWN AND COME HERE!’’ 

Both man jump when they hear Jehan shout, Enjolras more of surprise. 

‘’ Was that …?

‘’ Yes,’’ Grantaire answers the unfinished question.

‘’ I didn’t know he was capable of that,’’ Enjolras muses and is a bit confused. He saw Jehan as the role model of gentleness, of sweetness. His appearance and many smiles contributed to that image, but Enjolras never once thought that Jehan would shout like that.

‘’ Be glad you didn’t. I am seriously in trouble right now.’’ 

Grantaire gets up from his chair and rushes towards Jehan, who is looking murderous. 

‘’ All right, what did I do?’’ he asks, watching Jehan wearily. 

The small poet is actually shaking from anger and his eyes are flashing.

‘’ You. Have. Ruined. Everything!’’ he screeches. 

Grantaire immediately puts his hands defensively in the air and steps back. When Jehan is that angry, everyone has to run for cover. Actually, they already did. The living room is empty with the exception from Enjolras, who is watching the exchange with curiosity, Courfeyrac, who is waiting to step in and comfort the poet from whatever is bothering him and then Grantaire and Jehan themselves. 

‘’ What did I ruin?’’

‘’ Did you, or did you not, paint last night?’’ Jehan asks, his voice dangerously low and menacing. 

Enjolras is shocked when he sees Grantaire getting pale. His eyes are big and his breath catches in his throat. Grantaire’s stumbling backwards. 

‘’ It didn’t...’’ he whispers, but Jehan nods. ‘’ Everything?’’ Again, Jehan nods. ‘’ Oh god. I’m so sorry, Jehan.’’ Grantaire puts his hands in his hair and closes his eyes.

Jehan looks devastated, his eyes are shining and he can’t keep his angry pose for long. Grantaire sees the poet crumble before his eyes and acts quick. He catches Jehan and pulls him in an embrace. 

‘’ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’’ Grantaire keeps repeating and strokes the long, curly braid on Jehans head. 

After that, the poet starts crying. Everyone in the basement, even the ones in their rooms, can feel their hearts breaking by Jehans cries. It just sounds devastating, as if the worst thing ever had happened. They all want to go out and do anything, just to make Jehan stop crying and be happy again, to be smiling again. 

‘’ They are all gone, ‘Taire. Every one of them.’’ 

‘’ Shh... Calm there. You remember most of them, I will help you, I promise. You will get a new collection, even bigger than the last one. You can write them all down again, they are not lost forever.’’ 

Grantaire’s shirt is getting soaked with tears, but he ignores it, Jehan is still crying in his shoulder. Heartbroken. Grantaire hates himself at this moment. How could he be so stupid to leave the paint bucket open? And why did he have to put it on Jehans desk? At the other side of the room, Courfeyrac now sits next to Enjolras, who has no clue what is going on. Courfeyrac does. His eyes are cast on the ground and he knows in how much pain Jehan must be. His poems were his life-work. He spent all of his 151 years working on it, writing everything down and reading it over again and again, trying to improve it. That writing desk is always full of papers and leather-bound books, pens, ink, everything. Even the ground around it was littered with papers. If all of it is gone... 

‘’ What happened?’’ Enjolras finally dares to whisper, once Grantaire and Jehan disappear into the other room, where the damage is done. Courfeyrac looks up.

‘’ From what I’ve heard, Grantaire painted last night and my guess is that the paint fell on Jehans poems, ruing all of them,’’ he sights and gets up. He must go after Jehan, this is something that Grantaire can’t handle on his own. ‘’ So he has lost everyone of them, losing his life’s work.’’ 

‘’ Oh.’’ 

Enjolras’ eyes are big and round and concerned. 

‘’ Will Jehan be all right?’’ 

Courfeyrac smiles bitterly. 

‘’ He will, but this is truly horrible for us all.’’ 

After that, he disappears after Jehan and Grantaire and takes the poet in his arms. Jehan starts crying earnestly again and clings on the man, letting everything of that grief out and mourning his lost work. Only the closed books were saved, all his bought books are save. But his own writing, he only ever did that on loose papers, that were just scattered around.

‘’ Cry, Jehan. Let it all out sweety.’’ Courfeyrac keeps stroking Jehans hair and undoes the braid, letting the curls fall around his head and over his shoulders. And Jehan cries, he cries for hours, softly in Courfeyracs arms on their bed. He cries until he falls asleep in Courfeyracs arms and the man can only then wipe away his own tears. 

He still doesn’t know how he and Jehan stands in their relationship, they both want something, but it just doesn’t happen. Courfeyrac knows that Jehan likes him, hell, they kissed for god’s sake. But it just... It just stayed by that one kiss, two days ago. 

In the living room, everyone is again back, everyone in a depressed mood. Grantaire is actually the worst, just sitting at the table, this fifth bottle of beer in his hand and just drowning himself in regret and self-hate. The others are sitting in a tight circle, actually making plans to start the first uprising. Only Enjolras looks up at the cynic occasionally, but the plans also need his attention so he doesn’t get up. Grantaire just couldn’t care less for those plans, he wants to turn back time and never started painting. His hand goes to the damp spot on his shirt, the place where Jehan cried his soul out. 

Only then, the door of the bedroom opens and Courfeyrac gets out.

‘’ he’s asleep,’’ he says with a sigh and immediately he walks towards the counter, grabbing a beer and slumping down next to Grantaire.

‘’ He doesn’t blame you, you know. Not really.’’ 

Grantaire looks up and frowns. ‘’ It is my fault.’’

‘’ No it isn’t ‘Taire. Maybe partially. But you didn’t push over the paint, you didn’t deliberately leave it open. Stop blaming yourself.’’ 

‘’ But I –‘’

‘’ No ‘Taire. You didn’t. Jehan doesn’t blame you, no one of us is. Only you are. So stop it. I’m going back, but once he awakes, you talk to him and you better not saying it is your fault, or he will cry again and that is something I never want to see again, understand?’’ 

Grantaire is put off by the passion in Courfeyracs voice, how lovingly he speaks about Jehan. Are they... Jehan had told him about his feeling for Courf, but are they on both sides?

‘’ Fine,’’ Grantaire gives in and nods at Courfeyrac, who smiles and disappears again. 

The negotiations are still running in the living room, not that Grantaire wants to join. What difference does it make? He won’t have a grand part to play in this, so why bother with the details? He’ll see what will happen. 

 

It is hours later when Bahorel is checking if it is possible for Enjolras to go home, but he can’t even open the door. The snow is blocking everything.

‘’ Sorry Enjolras, seems you’re staying here,’’ he laughs and grabs some food from the upper cupboard. 

‘’ Why don’t you stay at ‘Taire’s and Bahorel’s room? I’m sure there’s plenty of space.’’ 

Courfeyrac laughs and his head turns to his own room, where Grantaire is talking to Jehan. The quietness is good news, he hopes. It only means they aren’t yelling, but it can also mean that Jehan had killed the cynic. Either way, it must make Jehan calm, so the man isn’t worried.

‘’ I’ll take the couch, I’m a horrible person to sleep with,’’ Enjolras laughs and stretches his legs. 

It is true, the blond, young revolutionary is horrible company in bed. He moves too much. The last person who slept in his bed, his sister when she was kicked out of her apartment because her roommate needed the space for her boyfriend, fell on the ground three times. So Enjolras sticks with sleeping alone.

‘’ You sure? I know ‘Taire won’t mind sharing.’’ 

‘’ I’m sure, Courfeyrac.’’

‘’ Fine, fine. Just remember it was offered.’’ 

After that, the case is closed and Courfeyrac decides to look how Jehan and Grantaire are doing in there. When he gets inside his room, his heart just stops. The scene before him is just overloaded with cuteness. Jehan must have grabbed the biggest blanket from the room and draped all over them, so that it could be used as a tent. Under the blanket, a light is shining and Courfeyrac can see the silhouettes of the two men, who are both hunched over something on the floor. Only after a few seconds does Courfeyrac notice that they are both writing. Jehan is citing his poems and Grantaire is furiously writing it all down. Courfeyrac hates to interrupt them, but he knows he has to. 

‘’ Guys? Dinner’s ready,’’ he calls out and two heads snap up, the blanket falling back and showing the dishevelled hair and smiles on their faces.

‘’ We’ll be right on our way, Courf, just finishing this one,’’ Jehan answers and Grantaire writes down the last words, after which he closes the notebook and gives it to the poet. 

Silently, he gets on his feet and disappears towards the living room, where everyone is just hanging around, with the food preparing itself in the oven. 

‘’ Grantaire is alive!’’ 

‘’ Shut up, Pontmercy!’’

Marius is startled and quietly sits back in the corner. Grantaire grins at Enjolras, who spoke up, and falls down on the couch next to him. 

‘’ You’re not going home?’’

‘’ We can’t even open the door,’’ Combeferre answers, passing by with the food.

Grantaire immediately grabs a slice of pizza, what he shoves in his mouth in barely one bite.

‘’ So can he stay in your bed?’’ Bahorel asks, laughing when Grantaire is choking in his pizza and coughs violently.

‘’ What?’’ he manages to say, once the coughing stops.

‘’ Nothing. I’m staying on the couch. You honestly don’t want me in your bed, unless you want to sleep on the floor,’’ Enjolras calms the man next to him and smiles reassuring, but Grantaire sees something more in those eyes, disappointment. Does Enjolras want to sleep with Grantaire? The cynic feels his heart rate go up and must contain himself. No, this is not the place for this.

‘’ Oh, fine,’’ he just says and stands up to grab two beers from the counter, one he pushes in Enjolras’ empty hand. 

The night just passes by, it is getting later and later and Bossuet and Feuilly are the first to retire to their room, saying they have to get up early to go to work in the morning, if they can get out. Nobody has any idea if the snow has stopped falling or if it had been gotten worse. Grantaire and Enjolras never left their spots next to each other on the couch and slowly, Grantaire feels his eyes getting heavier. His head drops on Enjolras’ shoulder when he falls asleep and the blond boy doesn’t move a bit, afraid of waking the dark-haired man next to him. So after a mere few minutes, Enjolras’ head drops against Grantaire’s and he also falls asleep. 

Jehan is the first to notice and squeals, his hands clasped before him and a big smile on his face by seeing the cuteness on the couch.

‘’ Let’s go to bed, guys,’’ Combeferre suggests and gets up from his chair, followed by Marius. But Courfeyrac grabs his Polaroid camera and snaps a couple of pictures.

‘’ Come on,’’ he says, seeing the looks the others are giving him. ‘’ Future reference. Black-mail, evidence, more of that stuff. You thought the same.’’ 

Jehan laughs and pushes Courfeyrac into their room. Joly is the one to grab a blanket and to throw it over the couple, keeping them warm. After that, he also emerges to his room and the whole basement falls asleep, relaxed and happy.


	10. Boredom ... And movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are still stuck in the basement, so Courfeyrac has an idea to kill the time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So really, this chapter is dedicated to Megan, who left such a nice and lovely comment!  
> Really, I write because of things like that.  
> The next chapter may take a while, because I'm not writing every day (since I'm on vacation at the moment, so can you blame me?) but it will be uploaded somewhere next week.  
> Enjoy! xx

The following morning, the basement is still dark when Enjolras wakes up. He flutters his eyes, but just doesn’t want to wake up. His back hurts, but he feels warm and cozy. He feels something tickle on the right side of his face and he shifts a bit. His hands are tangled with something warm and soft and he wants to stay that way for the rest of the day. 

‘’ Should we wake them?’’ he hears a voice whisper, sounds a bit like Marius. 

‘’ Don’t you dare.’’ Is that Combeferre? 

‘’ You sure?’’ 

‘’ Pontmercy, shut up,’’ Bahorel hisses and a thud is being heard. 

Enjolras has to force himself to keep his face passive. This is funny, but why doesn’t they want to wake him? Only when he feels his pillow move, something dawns on him.

‘’ Just go away,’’ Grantaire’s voice is heard from under Enjolras’ head. The man sounds hoarse, he just woke up and wants to stay this way forever. He had woken up like an hour ago and just wants to stay there. This is heaven and totally worth the pain in his back and neck. Just as long Enjolras doesn’t wake up, he has an excuse.

But it comes to an end, once he feels Enjolras move and one eye opens just a few millimeters. His vision is blurry and needs a few seconds to take it all in. Everybody is looking at the two, sleeping on the couch, their hands linked and heads against each other. Grantaire has his legs tucked under him, while Enjolras is still in a sitting position. Enjolras doesn’t sit right up, just looks around.

‘’ Why are you all staring?’’ he eventually asks and directs his gaze to Combeferre, who smiles.

‘’ You are cute when you sleep,’’ Jehan bursts out and Grantaire glares at him.

‘’ Can’t you shut up? All of you? It’s way too early.’’

‘’ It’s ten o’clock, ‘Taire. If you wanted to sleep until noon, you should have gone to bed when you had the chance.’’ 

Grantaire groans and is starting to get up, but then Enjolras squeezes his hand. 

‘’ Stay,’’ the blond man whispers, his lips barely moving and no one can hear it, except Grantaire. The cynic smiles a bit and lays his head back on Enjolras’ shoulder. 

‘’ So,’’ Joly sits down on the chair before the duo. ‘’ How long is this going on?’’ He sounds genuinely curious and hasn’t made one comment about germs or deceases. 

‘’ Oh. Uhm...’’ 

Enjolras feels a bit uncomfortable, but doesn’t want to change his position.

‘’ Since about a week,’’ Grantaire answers, his tone daring, like he wants to challenge anyone to say something. 

No one speaks up.

‘’ Good. Now if you just –‘’

‘’ No Grantaire, you just get up.’’

‘’ Did I talk to you, Pontmercy?’’

‘’ ‘Taire...’’

‘’ What?’’

Enjolras smiles lightly and feels really awake himself. It’s been ages since he had a good night’s sleep and it is refreshing. He can’t do anything right now, they are still locked up, everything they wanted to plan has been planned yesterday and there’s nothing to worry about right now. So they have a true day off. But then again, maybe he has to get up, to do something. 

‘’ Come on, ‘Taire. You can’t stay in that position for the whole day. Really, you’ll affect your spine and then you’ll have a hunch.’’ 

‘’ Then I’ll become the next Hunchback of the Notre Dame.’’

‘’ Yes! I have an idea for this afternoon, ‘Ferre can we borrow your laptop? Please?’’

‘’ Why?’’

‘’ A Disney marathon!’’

Courfeyrac is skipping in the room, while Bahorel and Bossuet simultaneously cover their faces in their hands. Combeferre is watching the smiling boy warily, but then he nods.

‘’ Don’t go on the internet, you know the files.’’ 

The movies on Combeferre’s laptop is enough to sentence the man to death in this time. They are all illegal, from the time that it still was possible to download movies. So there is a whole map dedicated to the old animated movies from Disney. They don’t even know if Disney is still running, maybe in the USA. 

Eventually, everything is set and Courfeyrac made a list of the movies they were going to watch, with suggestions from the others. Combeferre asked for Robin Hood, one of the oldest movies they had and Jehan begged for Tangled and The Little Mermaid. And who would Courfeyrac be to resist the poet. He selected Tarzan, because ‘’ he is soo hot, I mean, muscles and everything and way too little dressed for a children’s movie’’. Eventually, Joly protested when they suggested The Hunchback of the Notre Dame, saying he can’t watch Quasimodo with that hunch. When Bossuet said Up, Jehan was almost in tears, saying that ‘’ he doesn’t need a mental breakdown, thank you’’, so that one skipped the list too. It was Grantaire who suggested Hercules, his fascination with the Greek mythology still alive after all those centuries. Lion King was added after Joly suggested that one and everyone was surprised when they found out Enjolras was familiar with the old movies. The blond boy said that ‘’ Peter Pan was always his favourite story and he still has the movie at home’’.

So once Courfeyrac put on the playlist and pressed enter, Bossuet switched off the lights and Jehan put drinks and beverage on the table, they all watched the begin suite of Lion King. Jehan and Grantaire looked at each other and started together to sing the lyrics, although they have no idea what is been sung. So from the beginning, it is bad and it only became worse. 

After Lion King came Tangled, again something that Grantaire and Jehan love, although most of the boys loved the movie because of the free spirit, what they all have actually. Enjolras doesn’t know half the movies, they were before his time and part of it are illegal for radical ideas, but he loves it. He still hasn’t let go of Grantaire, but is now sitting a bit more comfortable. He really loved Robin Hood and seemed to have gained some new ideas. 

During Hercules, they all laughed at Hercules for being a dork and Megara for being a ‘’ badass bitch’’, as Bahorel calls her. Little Mermaid was one to sing along with, mostly Jehan, but Courfeyrac joined him mostly. During Tarzan, Courfeyrac was almost drooling over the ape-man, who did have a nice abdomen. 

At last, they watched Peter Pan and everyone felt like kids again, seeing the boy in the green clothes fight with pirates and being oblivious towards Wendy. 

Grantaire has is head on Enjolras’ lap and his eyes are closed again, is breathing not even enough to say that he is asleep, but he is close. Enjolras keeps running his hands through Grantaire’s hair and ignores the stares he feels sometimes, he doesn’t care. 

Eventually, during the credits, Grantaire is asleep and Enjolras feels his back protesting for being like 35 hours in the same position. 

‘’ I’ll take the couch, if you want to lay down,’’ Bahorel suddenly offers, while watching Enjolras wince when he stretches. 

The blond man smiles and nods thankfully, before he lifts Grantaire’s head and he can shake he dark-haired man awake. Enjolras is sure he can’t just carry him to the bedroom. 

So after a while, he has Grantaire in his bed and Enjolras wants to get to the other, but feels a hand on his arm.

‘’ Why don’t you sleep here?’’ Grantaire asks, his voice tired and his eyes dropping.

‘’ I’m not a nice person to sleep with, like I said.’’

‘’ I don’t care, get over here.’’ 

So Enjolras gives in, pulling the comforter up and sliding underneath it, next to Grantaire. Their legs tangle together and Grantaire pulls Enjolras even closer, using the boy’s chest as a pillow. They look at each other for some time, but then the sleep takes over and for the first time in years, Enjolras falls in a deep sleep and keeps Grantaire close.


	11. Alone in the basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just one word...  
> Sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing smut, so I'm sorry for it.  
> And I'm sorry for uploading not any sooner, school is killing me at the moment.  
> Next update will also take a while, so I'm really sorry in advance.  
> Still, I bring you sex, so enjoy ;)

‘’ Where is everyone?’’ Enjolras asks, his curls standing in all directions and wearing Grantaire’s sweatpants and his own shirt. He yawns again and looks around the room, everywhere is empty.

‘’ They have gone out. ‘Ferre says they will be gone for some days, I thought he said two or three, and he asked if we could just not get ourselves arrested or something.’’ 

Grantaire waves with a note that was lying on the table and can’t help but smile by seeing Enjolras. This is the third time he stays overnight, ending up in Grantaire’s bed and borrowing some of his clothes. Enjolras just shrugs and grabs some juice and something to eat.

‘’ We. Getting arrested? How do they come up with that?’’

Grantaire chokes in his food and starts laughing hysterically. Only two days ago, Combeferre had to get the both of them out of jail when they were kissing in public and Grantaire argued with the policeman who berated them. So they ended up in jail.

‘’ Oh god, Enjolras, I love it when you have humour.’’

‘’ Do you mean I don’t have it all of the time?’’

‘’ No you don’t. Sometimes you’re too serious.’’

‘’ Maybe you should be serious.’’

‘’ I am wild.’’

‘’ Grantaire...’’

‘’ You want a cookie?’’

‘’ I what?’’

‘’ A cookie. I have a box right here.’’

Enjolras is staring incredulously at the smirking cynic, but after a few seconds he gives up and accepts the cookie. Grantaire takes the moment to kiss Enjolras and he tastes the fruity flavour of the juice Enjolras was drinking. Enjolras moans quietly and Grantaire is a bit surprised, but just deepens the kiss and tasting more of Enjolras.

The cookies lay forgotten and both men understand at approximately the same time where this is going. Neither object.

‘’ Bedroom,’’ Grantaire murmurs and drags Enjolras back into the bed, his hands already wandering under the red shirt Enjolras is wearing. 

The blond man himself is also busy with his own shirt, but he is just trying to get it off. Grantaire’s shirt follows quickly afterwards and they still feel like the other has too many clothes on. 

Grantaire is pulling at the sweatpants, but Enjolras stops all of a sudden.

‘’ Are you sure?’’

‘’ If you want to continue, you should shut up right now. Of course I’m sure, you’re beautiful and perfect.’’ 

Enjolras takes that as a ‘yes’ and helps Grantaire out of his pyjama pants. Then he sticks his hand in Grantaire’s underwear and puts his hand around the growing bulge. Grantaire lays still all of a sudden, his eyes wide and looking at Enjolras. His breathing is coming shallower and Enjolras feels himself getting hard.

‘’ Oh god,’’ Grantaire moans and his eyes flutter shut, but they open again quickly to keep looking at the blond god above him.

Enjolras just smirks and moves his hand, the other one pulling off the boxers and throwing them away. His own follow shortly, they were holding his own erection back. 

Grantaire can’t keep his eyes off Enjolras, who seems to be made of marble. His own hands are shaking while he takes hold of Enjolras and his breath hitches when the blond man throws his head back and moans freely. 

‘’ Grantaire...’’ 

The dark-haired man nearly loses it, the way Enjolras says his name and needs to keep himself steady. He shouldn’t screw this up now.

‘’ Fuck me.’’ 

And there he screwed up. Enjolras stops jerking Grantaire off and his directs his piercing gaze towards Grantaire, trying to figure out if he means it.

‘’ Yes,’’ he whispers then and Grantaire’s breath stops. He gets up and silently walks over to Bahorels suitcase. Grinning, he finds a condom and a bottle of lube.

‘’ You don’t...’’

‘’ I had no need for it for many years, but Bahorel does,’’ Grantaire explains. 

In truth, Grantaire hadn’t had sex in about forty years, after that, his only partner was his own hand. But Enjolras is just perfect.

‘’ You are my first,’’ Enjolras admits and blushes a bit. Grantaire isn’t surprised by that fact, but he is surprised by how much it turns him on. 

‘’ I’ll help you,’’ he promises and hands Enjolras the lube. ‘’ One finger first, opening me up.’’ The blond boy doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t let it show that he has no idea what to do. He follows Grantaire’s directions and is fascinated by how the cynic can squirm underneath him. 

‘’ Yes, like that. Oh... Enjolras! Oh god. You can try another finger and – oh my... do that again.’’

Enjolras curls his fingers again and Grantaire screams with pleasure. 

‘’ Please... Please...’’ Grantaire can’t give any more directions, he can barely remember his own name. All he remembers is that he wants Enjolras to fuck him right there.

The man catches on and his fingers disappear. A bit shaking, he rolls on the condom and uses way too much lube. But then he is pushing his way inside Grantaire and the dark-haired immortal boy has never had that much feeling. He is so hard it hurts, but all of his attention goes to the sensation Enjolras is inducing. 

He starts slowly, trying to find a rhythm and finding out what Grantaire likes best. But then he realises that Grantaire wants him to go deeper and harder, so that is exactly what he does.

‘’ Oh Grantaire...’’ 

Enjolras thrusts again and feels his own orgasm building in his stomach. He looks in those blue eyes before him, dark with arousal and then grabs Grantaire’s hard on, rubbing it.

Grantaire can’t do anything, his body has his own free will and the man can only lay back and let it all happen. He screams, moans, grunts and whatever else is coming from his mouth. But then Enjolras takes him in his hand and Grantaire is done for. 

He doesn’t last long, his cum spreading over both their stomachs and Enjolras hand, while the blond man speeds up his thrusts and coming mere seconds later.

They are both breathing heavy, their heads pressed to each other and looking in the other’s eyes. Blue watching blue. Then Enjolras rolls off Grantaire and goes to collect a towel to clean them up. 

‘’ That was amazing,’’ Grantaire whispers once they both are clean and lying on the bed, just looking at each other.

‘’ You are amazing,’’ is Enjolras reply and he kisses Grantaire again.

 

When the others get back from their day off, Grantaire and Enjolras are sitting in the living room, watching a movie. Their hands are linked and Enjolras is lying with his back pressed to Grantaire. Neither one of them says a word about that afternoon, but they are considerably closer and smiling at each other knowingly.


	12. Then it all went wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like the title said (and Fantine sang), then it all went wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating sooner, I really am.  
> I just don't have the time and when I have, I'm stuck. Really stuck. I guess I have a writers block (damnit).  
> I do have the next chapter written, so that will be uploaded soon ;)  
> But for now you are all stuck with my cliffhanger, so enjoy and please don't hate me (A)

‘’ We have to act soon, this is getting out of control.’’ 

Enjolras is speaking passionately, his eyes darting to every person on the grounds, looking up at him and listening to his speech. Enjolras is in the heat of his words, passion flowing through his veins and addressing every person on the street. He had asked Éponine to stand guard and give him a sign when his time is up, when he has to go inside. 

The guards aren’t so keen on the speeches Enjolras gives, which are becoming more and more at the time. Enjolras has been speaking every day for the last week, while first it has been once every few days. Every day Enjolras speeches, not on a strict time, never at the same place twice in a row.

The thing is, Enjolras is in danger. He can’t be seen on the streets anymore. Not without risking an arrest. Every cop on the streets is looking for the blond-haired boy, trying to stop this rebellion he is starting.

Because the people are listening. They are actually listening to Enjolras and his dreams about a free France. The middle aged people can still remember how freedom feels, before the tyranny of Javert and submit their stories to Les Amis, who are walking on the streets all day and are quietly speaking to the people in the way Enjolras can’t participate in. He has to keep everything to his speeches, no matter how much he wants to be on the street talking to people. He doesn’t want to feel like he is just some statue, a front man, a puppet played by the people behind him. But he just has no choice, with the arrest warrant that is given. 

Grantaire said only days ago, when Enjolras was complaining about it, that he has become some sort of God to the people. An illusion. There he is, speaking about a better world, the next moment, gone without a trace and not been seen until his next speech. Enjolras turned towards Grantaire to roll his eyes at him, saying he is no God or anything and that he wants to help people, but the look on the dark-haired man’s face made Enjolras falter and not saying anything. 

Grantaire was looking at him with so much adoration, like he sees him like a God. It confuses Enjolras, who feels as if he is just a young boy in the group. All the others seem like they are old souls, much more grown-up than Enjolras. It is subtle, maybe they don’t even notice it, but Enjolras sees it. He sees it in every move they make.

Like when they are talking among each other, they sometimes use words that are ancient, from a hundred years ago. It is hard to notice, but sometimes it is there. Enjolras dismisses it most of the time, doesn’t think about it and just keeps going.

Enjolras is now back at Le Musain, nursing a glass of water and watching the diagrams and speeches spread out on the tables. He wants to change some things about the one he is going to perform the next day, but Combeferre already put it away.

‘’ Don’t do that. Otherwise you’ll forget everything tomorrow.’’ 

The man is looking extremely strict and Enjolras doesn’t dare to argue, mainly because he knows Combeferre is right.

‘’ Come on. Go out one night, away from this hellhole. You need it.’’ 

Enjolras sights at Joly’s proposal, don’t they understand that everything must be done now? The real attack will be soon. They have to go out, find the people and convince them to join. All they are waiting for is a sign. 

‘’ I can’t, there is so much to do ...’’

‘’ You can’t do anything right now, Enjy. Really, you’ve done enough. Just pick up ‘Taire at the bar and go walk with him or something.’’ 

‘’ Don’t call me Enjy!’’ 

Courfeyrac shrugs.

‘’ Whatever Enj. Just don’t get caught.’’

Enjolras knows he has no ground to stand on, everyone wants him out of the basement. So he gives up and pulls on his shoes, where after he disappears outside. Well, let’s go looking for Grantaire, then.

It’s not so hard to find the drunkard, Enjolras guessed right and found him in the first bar he entered, a beanie borrowed from the dark-haired man covering his hair and sunglasses against the sun and to cover his face. His disguise is good enough, even if he says so himself. No one who doesn’t see him regularly will recognise him. Then his eyes find the dark curls and the person beneath it. Grantaire is not too bad, he is still sitting straight and his eyes are wandering through the room. Although Enjolras isn’t entirely convinced Grantaire is only tipsy, he is impressed when he man bolts out of his chair when he sees him and pushes him outside.

‘’ Are you crazy? Do you want to get yourself killed? And is that mine?’’

Enjolras smiles. ‘’ Relax Grantaire. I’m good. Really. The others kicked me out, saying I had to go out a bit. So, any suggestions?’’ 

Grantaire is surprised and leans back a bit. Enjolras is willingly going outside with him? In the evening? While he is the most wanted criminal at the moment? Grantaire can’t follow him sometimes. But he does know something.

There is an art exposition a bit downtown, of course only art that is approved by the government, but Grantaire has wanted to check it out for some time, hoping that there is some talent in Paris at the moment. At least, that’s what he told Éponine that evening when she was sitting next to him. Grantaire has other plans for the exposition. He wants to help Enjolras, do something to help the cause. His plan is to make a statement on the paintings with the cans of graffiti paint in his backpack. Hopefully, Enjolras will appreciate it.

**  
‘’ Shit, ‘Taire, run!’’

Enjolras sees the security guard coming closer, almost within the sight of the protest signs Grantaire is finishing. The dark-haired man stops and looks up.

‘’ What?’’

‘’ Run!’’ 

Enjolras takes a good grip on Grantaire’s arm and pulls him towards the exit. 

‘’ Stop!’’ they hear behind them, but they keep running. 

Enjolras feels the beanie falling off his head and takes it in his hand, ignoring the calling of his name now he is recognised. Grantaire turns in an ally, what turns out to be a big mistake. The only way to go is up, over the fence. They are stuck. 

‘’ Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.’’ Grantaire has a hand in his hair and searches for a way out. The police guy caught up with them and is smiling really creepy, it’s making Enjolras’ hair stand up in his neck. 

‘’ The mighty Enjolras, here at my mercy.’’

Grantaire recognises the officer, it is the one that came into their apartment the first day. Officer Fraser was his name. 

‘’ What, what? No way, this isn’t Enjolras!’’ Grantaire tries, bluffing his way out of the ally, but it isn’t working.

‘’ Oh I am sure. And you, the drunk boyfriend, always near him. Now you can watch how France’ biggest threat will bleed on her streets.’’

‘’ France’ biggest threat isn’t me. It’s Javert and everyone around him.’’ 

‘’ Enj, pease shut up,’’ Grantaire begs him, knowing infuriating the officer will only get himself killed (faster). But it is too late, officer Fraser already has his gun in his hand and pointing it at Enjolras. 

Time seems to stop. Enjolras is watching the gun, but only secondly. His main focus is Grantaire, who is looking frantic and can’t seem to decide what to do. Enjolras stretches his hand and encloses Grantaire’s, keeping him near himself. Grantaire knows he has to act, he can’t lose Enjolras, not after how much he has changed himself for the blond boy. 

He pulls himself free from Enjolras and jumps on officer Fraser, the forgotten paint can still in his hand. Mere seconds later, the officer is on the ground, unconscious, but the gunshot is still ringing in Grantaire’s ears. He drops the bloodied can and his eyes searches for Enjolras, whose face is more white than marble. Blood is dripping on the ground, mingling with the streets and the blood from officer Fraser. The gun is still smoking a bit, and only then the pain of the bullet hits his body.


End file.
